


It Looks Better On You than Me, Anyway

by CMBYN_Obsessed



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: 1980s, Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:35:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27836161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CMBYN_Obsessed/pseuds/CMBYN_Obsessed
Summary: Elio is the new kid at Oliver's high school, and he's having trouble making friends.
Relationships: Oliver/Elio Perlman
Comments: 113
Kudos: 214
Collections: CMBYN December Fest 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ElementalPea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElementalPea/gifts).



> So, I wrote this and edited this fic in ONE DAY, something I have never done before. But I am so busy at work, and need to finish the next chapter of Farmie, so here this is! My contribution to the CMBYN December Fic Fest. My prompt is Sharing Clothes!
> 
> This is pure fluff, no smut at all (so sorry!), and is set in 1985 in an area near where I grew up.
> 
> It is very possible there might be another chapter added to this... but not until my Acting Class AU is done 😁
> 
> This is gifted to Elementalpea because she is a gift to this fandom <3

The new kid arrived at Vestal High School in late January of Oliver’s senior year. The boy was only a junior, but in a town as small as theirs, anyone different stood out immediately. It was rare to get any new students at their tiny school in rural upstate New York, especially in the middle of the year.

By the end of the first day everyone knew his name. Elio Perlman, who had moved to their town from a small village in Italy. His father had just started as a Classics professor at the large state university in the next city over. Elio was standoffish and studious. Oliver suspected he was actually shy and overwhelmed by his new situation, but the other students immediately labeled him as pretentious, dismissed him, and proceeded to ignore him.

As far as Oliver could see, Elio didn’t care that the other students were not interested in befriending him. He went through the day with his nose in a book, unless he was in the music room practicing his piano. Oliver had walked by the room several times in the few days since Elio had started at their school, drawn in by the flawless notes of Mozart and Bach. But he always stayed outside the door, never entering or letting himself be seen by Elio.

Oliver had one class with Elio, Advanced Placement English, and on his first day Oliver had tried to offer the boy a friendly smile. But Elio never allowed even a glance in his direction, instead intent on raising his hand to answer the teacher’s questions with an inevitably insightful (sometimes bordering on brilliant) answer. Eventually Oliver gave up trying. If the boy wanted to plod through the next year-and-a-half at their high school, friendless and alone, why should Oliver care?

But Oliver thought that he would sometimes catch a glimpse behind Elio’s façade, even if the other ignoramuses at his school could (or would) not. There were times when Elio was sitting by himself at the back of the classroom, alone with whatever tome he was currently reading, and Oliver could see the sadness in his eyes. He wanted to reach out to him in some way, but he always stopped himself. Oliver had worked hard in the last four years to fit in and be popular--playing soccer and basketball, and always donning a cheerful smile. He wasn’t going to put that all on the line for some aloof new kid that he didn’t even know. So he would continue to try and ignore Elio’s existence, even when he was always aware when Elio was in the room. Even when Elio was increasingly on his mind.

So it came as quite a shock when Oliver boarded the bus to his Friday night basketball game, very late due to the emergency of his uniform not being clean, to find Elio in the only empty seat on the bus at the very back. Oliver had made his way down the aisle, finding seat after seat already filled with his fellow players and a few spectators. Just as he was starting to think that he would have to get off and board the second bus that the cheerleaders rode in, he reached the very back and saw an opening in the very last seat. He went to slide in, only then noticing that it was Elio taking up the other half of the seat. He was staring out the window and didn’t even turn when all 6 feet 5 of Oliver was standing at the end.

“Is, uh… anyone sitting here?” Oliver had no idea why he was nervous. No one ever made Oliver Weiss nervous.

Elio finally turned, his green eyes looking up at Oliver, his delicate features contorted with annoyance. He shrugged. “Of course not,” he mumbled.

Oliver slid into the seat as the bus started with a loud rumble. The chatter in the bus grew louder as people talked over the noise of the ancient engine, but Oliver and Elio remained silent. Finally Oliver gathered his courage to speak.

“I’m surprised to see you here. Do you like basketball?”

“Not at all. My parents decided it was time for me to….” he held up his hands to make finger quotes, “ _be social_.”

Elio reached down and pulled a book out from between legs, and then a flashlight. Without another word to Oliver, he turned it on and started to read. Oliver squinted at the book-- _The Subterraneans_ by Jack Kerouac.

“I love that one. Most people think that _On the Road_ is the only book he’s written. They’re missing out on some of his best works.”

Elio set down the book on his lap and for the first time, really looked at Oliver. “You read Kerouac?”

Oliver smirked. “Yeah, just because I play basketball doesn’t mean I can’t also love literature. I’m in your AP English class, you know.”

Elio flushed at that. “I know.” He turned back to his book, apparently deciding that the conversation was over.

Oliver decided to try again. “So… you’re from Italy? Do you miss it?”

It was hard to see in the dark, but Oliver thought that he saw Elio’s jaw clench, as if he was trying to hold back his emotions. “Sometimes,” he replied curtly. He didn’t say anything more, but he also didn’t look down at his book again. He took a quick breath and then, without turning to look at Oliver, asked, “What other authors do you like?”

Oliver grinned. Books were one of his favorite topics of conversation, and one that he rarely got to indulge in unless he stayed after English class to chat with his teacher.

“Oh, there are so many. Hemingway, Jack London, James Baldwin. I also, um, like the classics. You know… Aristotle, Plato, Euripides.”

That pronouncement really got Elio’s attention. He sat up straight and turned to face Oliver. “My dad is a Classics professor, at SUNY Binghamton. I’ve never met anyone in high school who is into that stuff. _I’m_ not even into that stuff.”

Oliver couldn’t stop his proud grin that he had succeeded in impressing Elio. “Well, now you have.”

Elio narrowed his eyes, staring at Oliver, seeming to drink in his entire existence. But then he turned back to his book without another word. Oliver sighed. _So close,_ he thought. But then he caught himself. Close to what exactly? Striking up a friendship with the weird new kid? Just because he seemed smart and interesting and really talented. And nice to look at…

“Hey Weiss! You been practicing your free throws? We’re gonna need you making ‘em tonight against Endicott!”

Oliver stood up to yell back to Howard, his point guard. “Yeah, yeah, it’s in the bag. Don’t you worry about it.”

Howard crumpled up a flyer he’d been holding and launched it at Oliver over four rows of seats. Oliver caught it with one hand despite the darkness of the bus.

Oliver pointed at him, pretending to be threatening. “Watch it buddy. You’re not too big for me to put you over my knee.”

Howard guffawed and the boy next to him shouted, “He wishes!”

A female voice from somewhere in the darkness laughed. “You can put _me_ over your knee, Oliver.”

Oliver flushed at the insinuation, as he often did whenever he found himself the center of female attention, and fell back into his seat.

“Aren’t you popular?” Elio muttered, almost under his breath but not quite.

“Actually I am,” Oliver answered matter-of-factly. “Not that I care, " he lied. "Anyway, tell me about Italy. I’ve never been and I’ve always wanted to go. What part of Italy are you from? Rome?”

Elio closed his book again and paused. “Do you _really_ care? Or are you just being nice?”

Oliver sighed. Why was this kid so exhausting? He made his voice gentle. “Elio, I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t care. Tell me about it. _Please._ Don’t make me beg. _”_

Elio glanced over at Oliver and seemed to decide that Oliver was actually sincerely interested. “We aren’t from Rome. We have a villa in the village of Crema, in Northern Italy. It’s beautiful. It’s lush and green and it smells like apricots. My mother has an orchard, and there is a river nearby where we go swimming. It’s….” He stopped talking, and turned to look out the bus window.

Oliver realized that he was tearing up, and gave him a moment to gather himself.

The bus pulled into a school parking lot; they had arrived. The bus was brighter under the parking lot lights, and Oliver could see Elio’s face reflected in the bus window, vulnerable and sad. His heart lurched a bit at the sight, and he had a sudden urge to protect the boy.

“It sounds amazing,” he said softly. “I bet you miss it a lot.”

Elio nodded but said nothing. Oliver stood, gathering his bag. “I gotta go. You know, get changed and warm up.” He paused. “I really enjoyed talking to you, Elio. I’ll… see you inside?”

Elio looked down at his lap. “I’m just going to stay on the bus and read, I think.”

Oliver’s mouth fell open in alarm. “What? No, you can’t do that! You have to come in and watch. If you’re worried about where to sit, I’ll save a place for you on the bench behind the players. They always let us save a few of those seats for our friends and family.”

Elio’s face wrinkled with confusion. ”You’d do that for me?” _You barely know me_ was the unsaid thought.

“Yeah. I don’t want you sitting by yourself on the bus, freezing to death. It’s not a big deal,” he added quickly. “Anyway, I need to get in there. I’ll see you soon.”

Oliver gave Elio one last smile, then made his way down the aisle. It was time to focus on the game and not get distracted by Elio Perlman.

*****

Oliver got changed in the locker room, then went with his team to the gym for warm-ups. He looked over to the bleachers and was relieved to see Elio sitting behind the team bench and was actually chatting with one of the player’s girlfriends. Oliver turned back to the court, happily taking a shot from the 3-point line and sinking it.

“Save it for the game, Weiss!” Gary, the center, called to him.

Oliver glanced over at Elio to see if he happened to see the shot, but he had taken out his book again and his head was bent over the pages. Oliver rolled his eyes and sighed.

The team returned to the bench right before the game started for water and to listen to a pep talk from the coach. Oliver took the seat right in front of Elio, turning to get his attention.

“Hey, Elio.” Elio reluctantly tore his eyes from the book. “You have to watch at least some of the game. If we win this one, we are guaranteed a spot at the regional semi-finals!”

Elio’s brows furrowed. “And that’s… good.”

Oliver rolled his eyes. “Yes, it’s good. So please root for us, at least a little. Okay?”

Elio nodded. “So… go Bronze Beavers?”

Oliver laughed heartily at that, his head tipping back. “The _Golden_ _Bears_! I think the Bronze Beaver is the strip club on route 81.”

That made Elio snort, and Oliver turned around to listen to his coach, pleased that he had made Elio laugh for the first time.

*****

It was a close game and Oliver, who was the power forward, played well. Whenever he made a shot, he would check to see if Elio was watching. He was surprised to see that, as the game progressed, Elio seemed to be paying closer and closer attention to what was happening on the court. By the last quarter, when Endicott had taken the lead by four points, Elio even cheered for Vestal a few times. The game came down to a buzzer beater jump shot by Oliver. He missed, and the game was lost.

Oliver went to the locker room, dejected. He felt the full weight of the loss on his shoulders, despite his teammates assurances that he had played well and that it was a team loss. It was his senior year, and he did not want his season cut short, especially due to his own mistakes.

He showered and changed quickly, as if he were in a hurry. As he pulled on his jeans, he realized that he wasn’t in a hurry to be some _where_ , he was in a hurry to see some _one_. He grabbed his duffel bag and headed out into the dark parking lot to where the two school busses were parked. A group of cheerleaders spotted Oliver and yelled to him.

“Oliver, come on our bus! We smuggled in a few beers!”

Oliver waved but didn’t respond, pretending like he didn’t quite hear them. He boarded the first bus, where he hoped that Elio would be again. He walked down the aisle, as he had earlier, but this time there were plenty of empty seats. A few of his friends and some of the other players called to him to sit with them. Oliver pointed to the back of the bus and said, “I’m sitting back there,” and left it at that. He hoped none of his friends would press the issue.

He finally got to the back of the dark bus, and there was Elio, his book and flashlight balanced on his lap.

“Is this seat taken?” Oliver asked.

Elio looked up, a little startled. “Oliver. You don’t have to sit here again, you know.”

Oliver shrugged and slid in. “I want to. I want to hear what you thought of your first basketball game.”

Elio shocked Oliver with an honest-to-goodness grin. “I actually really enjoyed it. It was fast-paced and exciting. I could follow what was happening. And it was fun watching you make so many baskets. But I’m sorry you lost. Are you upset?”

Elio’s brow furrowed with concern, and the fact that he cared was enough to cheer up Oliver, just a bit. “I was, but I’m feeling better now,” he replied with a small smile.

The bus started up, the force lurching Oliver into his seat. He let his head fall back, and he turned to gaze at Elio. Once the bus pulled out of the parking lot, the bus got darker and Oliver could only see the outline of Elio’s strong jawline and a few of his errant curls. “I want to hear more about Italy. And what other books you’ve read. And your favorite movies.”

There was silence between them for a moment, then Elio asked quietly, “Why are you so interested in me?”

Oliver had been asking himself that question all night. Actually, since Elio had arrived the week before, if he were honest with himself. The fact was… Elio was more than interesting to Oliver. He was, in fact, fascinating. But Oliver couldn’t bring himself to admit that out-loud.

“You're well-read and intelligent, Elio. You’re just... different. I guess I should ask you why you’re bothering talking to me? I’m just some small town jock.”

Elio turned his body to face Oliver, so Oliver could just make out the green of his eyes. “I think that you’re smart and interesting, too. And more than that, you’ve been nice to me.”

Suddenly, Elio shivered. It was a cold January night, and the heat hadn’t reached the back of the bus yet. Oliver looked at the jacket that Elio was wearing and fingered the thin material. “This isn’t a warm enough jacket for a New York winter, Elio. It can’t be more than 30 degrees outside.”

Oliver shrugged off his thick letterman jacket. He had on a warm sweatshirt, plus he always ran hot. Elio needed it more than he did.

“Here. Put this on. I don’t want you freezing to death under my watch.”

“Oliver, I can’t take your…”

“Elio, TAKE IT. I’m not putting it back on, so if you don’t put it on, it’s just going to sit here between us.”

Elio smiled then, hesitantly taking the huge coat. It had Oliver’s name on the front, and their mascot on the back. He leaned forward and pushed his arms through the sleeves, then pulled it around him snug to keep him warm. Oliver watched him, and his heart skipped in a strange way seeing Elio wearing his jacket.

“You look… I don’t know. Cute?”

Elio gave a small smile and Oliver thought he saw Elio duck his face down to sniff the collar. Both boys leaned back on their seat as the bus rumbled through the country roads. Oliver’s thigh was touching Elio’s but neither of them pulled away.

“So… favorite movies," Oliver started. "Mine are The Godfather, Chinatown, and The Shining. I love Jack Nicholson. How about you?”

Elio thought for a moment, then replied, “Cinema Paradiso, Metropolis, and 8 1/2.”

Oliver’s eyebrows raised, impressed. “See? This is why you’re interesting. I haven’t seen any of those.”

Elio bumped his shoulder against Oliver’s. “Guess you need to expand your cultural horizons, Mister ‘I-read-Euripides.’”

Oliver gasped in mock indignation. “I _do_ read Euripides! I just haven’t seen many foreign films. But I want to. You’ll have to tell me more movies to see.”

Elio nodded with a smile. “I can do that. I suppose.”

Oliver chuckled. “I _suppose_ ,” he repeated with a laugh.

They were quiet for a moment, and the silence made Oliver more aware of the way his leg was pressing against Elio’s. He still didn’t pull away, and instead enjoyed the warmth coming from their two limbs touching. He turned to Elio and tugged his jacket tighter around Elio’s chest, as a father might do for his small child.

“Are you warm enough?”

Elio nodded, and Oliver was overwhelmed by his proximity to Elio’s face. The shocking thought that he wanted to _kiss_ Elio suddenly appeared in his mind. He quickly sat back again, his heart racing in his chest, and Elio turned to look out the window. They bus was pulling into their school’s parking lot.

“Thank you again for being so kind to me, Oliver,” Elio said without turning from the window.

The bus parked at the curb of the school and the players and spectators all started filing slowly off the bus. Elio and Oliver stayed put, enjoying each other's company a few minutes longer, waiting until the last person was off. Oliver stood up, scooted out of the seat, then held his hand out to help Elio up. After Elio was standing, Oliver kept his warm hand enveloped around Elio’s for a second longer than he needed. He let Elio lead the way down the aisle.

They descended the short staircase off the bus into the crisp, dark January night. The air smelled sharp and fresh, as if it were going to start snowing at any moment. Elio began to pull off Oliver’s jacket, but Oliver stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Keep it. It’s too cold for you to wear just that light jacket home. Do you… need a ride?”

Elio’s face fell. “No, I see my dad’s car over there. Thank you again for letting me wear your jacket. I’ll bring it to school tomorrow for you?”

Oliver shrugged. He really liked Elio in his jacket. But did that have to mean something? Did he _want_ it to mean something? Was he ready for that?

“Why don’t you keep it until you buy something warmer. It looks better on you than me anyway.”

Elio face broke into the biggest smile he’d had all night.

“Alright. See you in English tomorrow.”

“Save me a seat?”

Elio nodded. “I’ll save you a seat. Bye, Oliver.”

“Bye, Elio.”

Oliver watched Elio walk to a green Volvo wearing his letterman jacket, and he felt happier than he had in months. Just as he was crawling into the small car, Elio turned to give Oliver one last wave. Oliver waved back, and suddenly he couldn’t wait for tomorrow to arrive.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day after Elio and Oliver bond on the bus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this was supposed to be a one-shot, but I really like it and have decided to add on to it, just a bit. I am thinking only 3 or 4 chapters. It is innocent fluff <3

Chapter Two

Samuel Perlman watched the school bus from his car, waiting for his only son to exit so he could get back home. It was a cold night, and Professor Perlman had left the warm coziness of his fireside chair to retrieve Elio from the school parking lot after the basketball game. To make the effort worthwhile, he hoped that Elio had made a few friends, perhaps even had fun. But Samuel knew his shy, prickly son quite well, and he guessed that Elio had probably spent most of the night with his nose in a book. _Like father, like son,_ he thought with a chuckle.

Even in Italy, Elio had been an introvert. But that trait had gotten more extreme since the family had moved to America. Elio had been, understandably, very resistant to the move to this small town in upstate New York. But Professor Perlman had felt stagnant at his job in Milan, and when he was offered the position of department head of Classic Studies at SUNY Binghamton, he jumped at the chance to start fresh in the States. Elio had a very small but tight circle of friends at his old school, and Samuel felt guilty about dragging him away so late in his education, but he had to do what was best for his career at this point in his life.

The flow of students exiting the bus slowed, then seemed to come to a complete halt, and Elio had still not gotten off. Just as Samuel was starting to worry that he had somehow gotten left behind, Elio appeared at the top of the bus steps, wearing a too-large school jacket, followed by a tall blond boy in sweats.

Samuel smiled; Elio, it appeared, _had_ made a friend. But as he continued to watch them, their body language told a different story. The way they subtlety leaned into each other without quite touching, the softness in their expressions that Samuel could just make out under the parking lot light—those things seemed to hint at feelings beyond friendship. Samuel exhaled a small sigh. He always suspected that Elio liked both boys and girls, but he had never seen such concrete evidence with his own eyes. He supported Elio in whatever his life choices were, but he worried about this particular development at his new school. He immediately thought of several ways that it could end badly.

Elio glanced over at his car and Samuel lifted his hand to let Elio know that he saw him. Elio gave a small nod and turned back to his tall friend. He started to shrug off the jacket but the other boy put a hand on his arm to stop him. Elio kept the jacket on.

_He really likes Elio._ Even from this distance, Samuel could tell that. Then he witnessed something that he hadn’t seen since the Perlman family left Italy: Elio’s face broke into a huge grin. Samuel’s heart skipped a beat, seeing his son finally happy in his new home.

Maybe this development would be positive after all.

*****

“Save me a seat tomorrow?”

_Oliver wanted to sit with him tomorrow_. He didn’t want to hide Elio away like some dirty secret. He wanted to be, at the very least, friends.

Elio nodded. “I’ll save you a seat. Bye, Oliver.”

“Bye, Elio.”

Elio turned to walk to his father’s car. He felt Oliver’s eyes on him and he resisted the urge to look back for the entire length of the parking lot. But once he was at his father’s car, he could no longer stop himself—he turned one last time and, sure enough, Oliver was still watching him. He gave a quick wave, his heart in his throat, and climbed into his father’s car.

He buckled his seatbelt, knowing his father had seen him with Oliver and was waiting for some sort of explanation.

When none was forthcoming, Samuel said mildly, “I see you made a friend? He is very tall.”

Elio shrugged noncommittally, not wanting to give his father too much information. “Oliver. He’s on the team.”

Samuel’s eyebrows rose. “Oh? And that’s his athletic coat?”

Elio rolled his eyes. “It’s his letterman jacket. I was cold, so he let me borrow it.” Elio wasn’t sure if this would seem odd or not. He was often unsure of what the rules of normal social engagement between teens were.

“I… I’m going to return it tomorrow.” And in that moment, he decided that he would. Oliver had said that he could keep it, but he was sure that he would want it back the next day.

“So, did our team win?”

Elio shook his head ‘no,’ but kept his eyes on the window, staring out into the dark night.

When it became apparent that Elio wouldn’t be sharing any more information, Samuel switched on the radio to the classical station. They rode in silence the rest of the way home.

*****

After Elio had retired to his bedroom for the night, he couldn’t stop from bringing the jacket to his nose again and again, inhaling the unique scent of Oliver that clung to the fabric. It smelled of sweat and cologne and a bit of mint from a stick of gum in the pocket. It reminded Elio of how he had smelled in the bus, when they were only a few inches from each another. Close enough for their thighs to touch. Now that he was in the privacy of his own room, he buried his nose in the lining of the coat, where the scent was strongest. He wrapped his arms around the coat and took it to bed with him, falling asleep with his face pressed against the cloth.

When Samuel went to bed, he cracked open Elio’s door to check on him, and saw him asleep with the jacket tight in his embrace. He knew for sure then that if Oliver wasn’t currently more than a friend to Elio, Elio certainly wanted him to be. Samuel shut the door slowly, then leaned against it with a sad sigh. He personally knew all too well how unkind the world could be to a boy who liked another boy in the wrong way. He wondered if he should mention this all to Annella, Elio’s mother, but decided against it.

The next morning, Elio got ready for school with butterflies in his stomach. In the harsh light of the morning, what had happened the previous night on the bus between him and Oliver seemed almost like a dream. Yet he was still in possession of Oliver’s jacket, so he knew that it was real. The thought of seeing Oliver at school was nothing less than terrifying. To try and calm his nerves, Elio brought the jacket to his nose a few more times, but it had lost much of Oliver’s scent already. Once he returned the jacket to Oliver, would it be as if last night had never happened?

Before yesterday, Elio and Oliver had rarely spoken in English class, and had _never_ spoken outside of that class at all. Elio could try to blame Oliver for their silence, but the truth was that he had felt Oliver’s eyes on him several times in class. It was as if Oliver was trying to get his attention, and Elio had always ignored him. He couldn’t imagine a single reason why the handsome, popular boy would want to talk to him, so of course he assumed the worst--that Oliver wanted to make a mean remark to him, or to tease him in some way. If Elio never acknowledged him, he would never have to find out if that were true.

Except… Oliver didn’t seem like the type to tease another person. He gave intelligent answers during discussions, and he seemed surprisingly well-read. He was friendly to all the other students in class, even the ones who were less popular. Elio had seen him several times in the music hallway, even though as far as he knew, Oliver didn’t play an instrument. And he was always kind and helpful to the teachers. All these things made Elio wonder if perhaps Oliver _didn’t_ want to tease him, but he was never brave enough to return Oliver’s gaze and find out. Until, of course, last night. When Oliver was suddenly in his space, and there was no escaping Oliver’s stares, his questions, his unflinching attention. And he discovered that Oliver was all the wonderful things that Elio had hoped he would be and more.

Now it was the morning after, and Elio’s father offered to drive him to school. As they walked out to the car, Elio considered for a brief moment putting the jacket on again, to relive the previous night and pretend for a few more moments that it had meant something. But no… what would be the point? He would return the jacket to Oliver as soon as he got to school. He was sure that would be what Oliver would want.

*****

Elio entered the school clutching Oliver’s jacket and headed for his locker to return it to its owner. He could barely admit to himself that he knew exactly where Oliver’s locker was. Oliver was crouching down looking through his backpack when Elio approached; Oliver immediately seemed to sense him and stood to face Elio with a smile.

“Good morning.” He greeted Elio happily, with no hesitation.

“Hey, Oliver,” Elio responded, suddenly feeling uncomfortable and anxious. “I just wanted to, um… return your jacket. I figured you would want it back today. So… here.” He held out the coat awkwardly to Oliver, whose initial pleasure at seeing Elio slowly turned to bewilderment.

“Oh, right. Sure… thanks for returning it, Elio.” He took the jacket from Elio, his hands slowed with uncertainty. The two boys stared at each other for a few quick seconds before Elio had to glance away from the puzzled blue of Oliver’s eyes.

“So, I’ll see you in English. Do you still want me to save you a seat?” Elio asked, looking everywhere but at Oliver.

Oliver kept staring at Elio, hoping he would eventually return his gaze. He was hurt that Elio was returning his jacket, and he didn’t know if that meant that Elio didn’t like him, or if he just really thought that Oliver would want it back. He thought that if he could just catch Elio’s glance, even for a moment, he might find the answer. But Elio stubbornly refused to grant him even that.

Oliver eventually gave up the hope and answered. “Yeah…. if you want. But don’t feel like you _have_ to.” He suddenly felt frustrated, like all the steps towards friendship they had gained last night had been erased. They were talking at least, but the ease of the night before was gone.

“I will. See you later, Oliver.” And with that, Elio escaped down the hall, grateful to have survived the interaction.

*****

Oliver ran into English class just as the bell was ringing, almost late as always. He had gym right before, and really needed a few extra minutes to shower and make his way across campus to English. He smiled when he saw that Elio had, in fact, put his books on the desk next to him to save the seat.

He slipped into the seat, whispering, “Thanks” to Elio, who barely afforded him a glance. His brows furrowed with confusion and he was about to ask what was going on with him when the teacher started class. Oliver settled into his seat, but stole a few glimpses at Elio throughout the hour. Every time, Elio had his eyes on the teacher, never wavering for even a moment to return any of Oliver’s looks.

After almost an hour of being ignored, the bell rang signaling the end of class. Elio scooped up his books, rushing out the door. Oliver gathered his things, wanting to catch up with him, to find out what his problem was, but he had already been swallowed up by the crowded hallway. Oliver leaned against the row of lockers, banging his head in frustration.

At lunch, Oliver sat with his normal group of friends, but left a seat next to him, empty for Elio on the off-chance that the boy actually ventured into the lunchroom. He watched the entrance to the cafeteria like a hawk, but Elio never appeared. He finished his sandwich and stood to throw out his trash.

“I’ll catch you guys later,” he said to his friends. He wasn’t sure where Elio was, but he could take an educated guess.

Oliver heard Elio’s playing as soon as he entered the music hallway. He knew it had to be Elio, as no other student at Vestal High was as accomplished a pianist. Oliver didn’t recognize the piece he was playing, but it was something beautiful and sad. He quickly found the room occupied by Elio and peeked in the window. There was Elio, bent over the piano, his body tense with concentration as he played. Oliver watched for a moment, mesmerized by the notes and Elio's swaying form. He waited for a break in the music, then softly tapped on the window and cracked open the door.

Elio whirled around on the piano bench, his face reflecting shock at Oliver’s appearance. “Oliver, what are you doing here?”

Oliver walked over to the piano and stood over Elio. “Well, I realized that you were pretty intent on avoiding me all day. I figured that if I wanted to talk to you, I would have to be the one to find you.”

Elio looked away, guilty at being caught. He said nothing.

Oliver tried again. “Elio. Why are you acting this way? Do you… regret hanging out with me last night?” Oliver hadn’t considered that, but it suddenly seemed like a likely explanation.

Elio reluctantly met Oliver’s eyes. “No, I just… I didn’t want you to feel obligated to hang out with me today. I thought I would… give you an out.”

Oliver laughed with relief. Elio’s eyes narrowed, not understanding what was so amusing about what he had just said. “I mean, it just seems like a bad idea for you to hang out with me at school, Oliver. I’m new and weird. You’re popular and… popular. I don’t want you to give people the wrong idea.”

Oliver's face wrinkled with confusion as he sat on the small space on the bench next to Elio. “What? That we're friends? That actually isn't the wrong idea. So Elio, why don’t you let _me_ decide what I do and don’t want to do. My reputation isn’t going to be ruined because I’m friends with you.”

Elio tilted his head up to look closely at Oliver. “But why do you want to? Be friends with me, I mean.”

Oliver sighed with the slightest bit of frustration, but then looked back at Elio. He gazed quietly at him for a moment, then tucked a stray curl behind Elio’s ear. “I told you last night. Because I like you. I like talking to you. I like hanging out with you.” _I like looking at you,_ he added in his thoughts only.

“Now… will you please play for me?”

Elio leaned back to get a better view of Oliver, as if seeing him in his entirety might solve the riddle of why Oliver had taken such a liking to him. Oliver put up his hands, as if in prayer. “Please, Elio?”

Elio finally seemed to accept his current situation. He nodded at Oliver and turned back to his piano. He launched into a more upbeat tune, a song that was fast-paced and complex. Oliver was suitably impressed.

When he was done, Elio laid his head on the keys as if the song had exhausted him. Oliver burst into applause just as the bell rang, signaling the end of the lunch period.

“That was wonderful. Thank you, Elio.”

The two boys stood up and Elio walked to get his backpack from the corner.

“Elio?”

Elio turned to face Oliver, an expectant expression on his face.

“I have to hurry to art, but… can I give you a ride home today?”

Elio finally allowed himself to show the smile that had been hiding in him all day. “Sure.”

Oliver’s face lit up with relief. “Great! I’ll meet you outside the main door after the last bell.”

Elio nodded. “See you then, Oliver.” And he watched as Oliver slipped out the room, feeling lighter than air.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this is the end of this little tale. Hopefully you will all enjoy it xoxox

Chapter Three

Oliver leaned against the low wall outside the front entrance of the school, watching the herd of students streaming past as he waited for Elio. Several kids called his name but he only waved back, not wanting to encourage anyone to stop and chat. Minutes ticked by, and the mass of teenagers thinned until there was only a trickle of people walking past. Oliver glanced at his watch, starting to worry that Elio was standing him up, when the door opened again and Elio rushed through, his backpack slung over one shoulder.

He caught sight of Oliver and skidded to a halt in front of him, anxiously licking his lips. “I’m so sorry… Mr. Chapman wanted to talk to me after class about playing accompaniment for the spring musical. Were you waiting long?”

He looked so nervous that Oliver felt an immediate need to reassure him. “Not at all. I’m just glad you’re here. So, what musical are they doing this year? Please, not _Grease_ again.”

Elio laughed, his relief evident in the way his shoulders relaxed. “No, not _Grease_. I think _Bye, Bye Birdie_ or _The Music Man_. Maybe you should try out? You would be perfect as Conrad Birdie.” His lips turned up slightly in a tentative grin.

Oliver snorted. “Sure, except I sound like a drowning hippo when I sing.” Elio allowed himself a full smile at that, and Oliver felt good knowing that he knew how to make Elio happy. _Sometimes at least_ , he added to himself. He stood up, digging into his jeans pocket for his car keys. “Are you ready to go?”

Elio nodded and the boys started towards the parking lot. Oliver pointed to a black older-model Cadillac Seville. “This is me.”

Elio giggled. “Is this your grandfather’s car?”

Oliver gave him a playful shove. “Where’s _your_ car, Elio? It gets me from point A to point B. That’s all I care about.” He leaned over and unlocked the passenger side door, opening it with a flourish for Elio. “Your chariot awaits.”

Oliver slid into the driver’s seat and Elio gave him directions to his house. Oliver didn’t want to admit it to Elio, but he already knew where he lived. He had somehow had acquired a mass of information about Elio Perlman in the last few months. His address, his school schedule, where he ate lunch, what musical compositions he was learning. And now he knew his favorite movies. His _Elio File_ was growing.

“Hey, thank you for playing for me today,” he said softly, keeping his eyes on the road. “I really love to listen to you. Maybe I can come again some time?”

Elio looked down at his lap, a pleased smile on his face. “ _Any_ time, Oliver.”

They drove in companionable silence for a few minutes, then Oliver pulled into the long driveway to the Perlman residence, a sprawling but graceful Tudor-style home. Oliver parked right in front and peered up at the large house through the front window of his car. He had only ever seen it from the road, and it seemed even bigger up close.

“So, it’s just you and your mom and dad here?”

Elio nodded, unfazed. He had grown up in villas and mansions, and this particular house wasn’t even that impressive to him. “And Mafalda, our maid. Oh, and Anchise. He does our gardening and maintenance around the house. They came with us from Italy.”

Oliver stared at him silently. He didn’t know any other family with servants and he wasn’t sure what to make of it. Elio suddenly realized that Oliver seemed shocked at what he had just told him. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “Is that… weird?”

“Not weird. Just… different.” He paused, not wanting to say good-bye to Elio, but unsure how to extend the conversation. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess?”

Elio grabbed his backpack from the floor of the car and held it awkwardly on his lap, chewing on his bottom lip. “Unless… you want to come up? We could work on our _Beowulf_ essays together…”

Oliver grinned with relief. That was _exactly_ what he wanted to do. “That sounds great, Elio. I could use your help. _Beowulf_ has me stumped.”

*****

Oliver followed Elio through the huge front door into an ornate entryway. They boys shrugged off their backpacks and threw them onto one of the two enormous Victorian-era chairs that stood guard on either side of the front door. An oil painting of the Italian countryside hung on the opposite wall over a small antique settee. Oliver hadn’t even left the entrance area of Elio’s house, and he was already equally impressed and intimidated by his surroundings.

“Are you hungry?” Elio asked as he toed off his sneakers. “Mafalda can make us something.”

Oliver nodded quickly. He was always hungry. “Starving.”

Elio led the way into an enormous farm-style kitchen, featuring a over-sized island and 6-burner stove. Oliver had never seen such a huge kitchen, but it wasn’t surprising, considering the size of the rest of the house. A thin, dour-looking middle-aged woman was chopping fruit at the island.

“Buon pomeriggio, Mafalda. Questo è Oliver, il mio amico di scuola. Ci prepari uno spuntino, per favore?” ( _Good afternoon, Mafalda. This is Oliver, my friend from school. Will you make us a snack, please?_ )

The woman looked up, and an annoyed but affectionate smile at the sight of Elio transformed her face from sour to kind.

“Elio! Perché non mi hai detto che avresti portato a casa un amico con te? Ne farò dell'altro..” ( _Elio! Why didn’t you tell me that you were bringing a friend home with you? I’ll make some more_ ).

“No, no. Questo è abbastanza. Dove sono mamma e pap1?” ( _No, no. This is plenty. Where are mama and papa?)_

Mafalda pointed vaguely in the direction of another door with her knife. “Tua madre sta leggendo in biblioteca. Tuo padre è ancora al lavoro.” _(Your mother is reading in the library. Your father is still at work._ )

Mafalda handed Elio two bowls brimming with cut-up melon, strawberries, and grapes. Elio leaned down to peck her on her cheek. “Grazie,” he said with an appreciative smile. She nodded briskly and turned back to her chopping.

Elio started down the hallway, nodding at Oliver to follow him. Oliver’s head was on a swivel as they walked down a hallway with walls covered in enormous oil paintings. Elio paused at an open doorway and gestured at Oliver to come stand next to him. Oliver looked into the room—it was a library with floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with books, picture frames, and exotic trinkets. A handsome woman with long silky brunette hair and Elio’s eyes lounged on a divan, reading.

“Mama, I’m home from school.”

The woman glanced up with an expectant smile. “ _Il mio amore,_ how was your day? Oh! And who is this?”

Elio smiled shyly. “This is Oliver. He’s in my English class. We’re going to work on our Beowulf essays together.”

Elio’s mother's smile widened. “Oliver. So nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Perlman.”

Elio turned to go. “Come on. We better get started.”

Oliver gave a final nod to Mrs. Perlman, and followed Elio up a narrow, curving staircase. The ceiling was low, and he ducked down to avoid hitting his head. Elio noticed and laughed. “These are the servants’ stairs. They lead right to the hallway outside my room. Perfect for sneaking into the kitchen for late night snacks.”

Sure enough, the stairs deposited them next to a small door, which led to Elio’s room. It was a small space considering the size of the rest of the house, and every inch of wall space was covered in posters of musicians or art prints. A small desk was barely visible under a pile of books, and a keyboard was thrown carelessly on top of the unmade bed. Dirty laundry overflowed from a small hamper onto the floor.

“Sorry it’s such a mess. I would have picked up if I knew I was having company,” Elio said apologetically, scooping up an armload of dirty clothes and dropping it into the hamper. He moved the keyboard to his desk and pulled up his comforter, trying to make his bed look presentable.

Oliver laughed. “I don’t care, Elio.” He sat down in the cleared spot on Elio’s bed, his back against the wall, his feet hanging over the side of the bed. “I’m just happy you invited me.”

Elio handed Oliver one of the bowls of fruit and sat down on his desk chair. He popped a piece of melon into his mouth, then licked his fingers clean of the juice. Elio felt Oliver’s eyes on him; he glanced up to find Oliver staring at his mouth, his lips parted slightly. Oliver quickly glanced away when he realized he’d been caught.

“So… how much of your essay have you written?” Elio asked. He couldn’t believe that Oliver was actually here, in his room. He wondered how long he would be able to stay for.

Oliver paused, then ducked his head with a slightly guilty smile. “It’s done, actually.”

Elio’s mouth dropped open. “It’s _done_? But you said…”

“How much have _you_ gotten done, Elio?”

Elio paused and his face flushed a healthy pink. “Well… I’m done with mine, too.”

Oliver’s smile grew at Elio’s admission. He took a bite out of the strawberry he was holding.

Elio set down his bowl and wiped his hands on his jeans. “So what do you want to do then?”

Oliver shrugged. “I don’t know. Talk? I like talking to you, Elio.”

Elio’s heart sped up a bit at Oliver’s words. An idea popped into his head, but he wasn’t sure if he was brave enough to suggest it. He picked up a pencil from his desk and began to fidget with it, as if the distraction might make him braver.

“We could, um… we could maybe… ” he fumbled nervously with his words.

Oliver waited patiently while Elio took a deep breath, and then finally said his idea. “We could play… Truth or Dare?”

Oliver grinned. It had been worth the wait. “I’m in. Me, first. Truth or Dare, Elio?”

Elio set down the pencil and looked right at Oliver, mentally preparing himself. “Dare.”

“Okay. Hmm,” he bent one leg up and wrapped an arm around it while he thought of a suitable first dare. “I dare you to… come sit next to me.”

Elio’s heart beat even harder. It was a simple thing, sitting next to Oliver, yet also terrifying. He slowly pushed off of the chair, then crawled onto the bed and over to Oliver. He turned to lean his back against the wall in the spot next to Oliver, purposely leaving a few inches between them so they weren’t touching. Despite this, he could still feel warmth emanating from Oliver’s body.

He glanced up at Oliver. “That wasn’t much of a dare,” he attempted to tease, trying to convince himself that being in such close proximity to Oliver wasn’t scrambling his brain. He took a deep breath. “Okay, my turn. Truth or Dare?”

“Definitely truth,” Oliver answered quickly.

Elio’s heart continued to beat at a breakneck speed as he wracked his brain for an suitable question. There were so many things he wanted to know, but he especially wanted to find out two things: did Oliver like boys in _that_ way and, more specifically, did he like Elio in _that_ way. But he couldn’t ask that. His mouth would never form those words.

“Have you ever had a girlfriend?” He decided to ask around the questions that he really wanted to ask. He couldn’t meet Oliver’s eyes, and instead kept his stare fixed on his and Oliver’s legs stretched out next to each other on his forest green comforter.

“Yup. I’ve had three, actually.” Elio looked up at him then, surprised at his words.

“ _Three_? When?” He wasn’t sure if follow-up questions were allowed in this game, but he decided to take his chances.

Oliver ticked off each girl on a finger. “Jessica was my first girlfriend in eighth grade. That only lasted a few weeks. Then I dated Michelle in tenth grade. She was a pretty cool girl. Very Catholic. We dated for almost a year. And then last year I dated Cara, but she wanted a lot more from me than I could give her. She dumped me after a month.”

Elio blinked in shock. Someone broke up with Oliver? Smart, funny, gorgeous Oliver? That seemed too crazy to be true.

“Why did she break up with you?” Elio prayed he wasn’t being too nosy.

Oliver stayed quiet for a long moment and Elio was about to apologize for asking such an inappropriate question, when Oliver answered with a shrug, “I didn’t want to do more than kiss. She told me that I must be gay.”

Elio turned his entire body to face Oliver. “I’m sorry she said that to you. That must have been hurtful.”

Oliver looked away from Elio, as if lost in thought. When he finally spoke, his voice was sad. “It was at first, Elio. I told myself she was wrong, that I just wasn’t ready to do more with her for... I don't know, a million other reasons. And I had almost convinced myself that it was true until… until you came to our school.”

Oliver paused and glanced down into Elio’s eyes, his eyes wide with sincerity. “To _my_ AP English class. I saw you, and I…. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Oliver looked away again, worried that he had said too much. “I hope it’s alright that I’m telling you these things,” he said softly.

“It’s okay, Oliver,” Elio choked out, his voice barely a whisper.

Oliver suddenly turned back to Elio. Elio looked so concerned for Oliver, it made Oliver want to take him in his arms and tell him that he was alright. At this moment, everything felt alright. “Can I… kiss you?” Oliver asked, his voice low, his forehead furrowed with uncertainty.

“Yes, please,” Elio breathed in reply, and leaned into towards Oliver the slightest bit, but kept his eyes open. He didn’t want to miss any of this moment. Oliver slowly erased the space between them, leaning in until his lips brushed against Elio’s. Elio cataloged the sensations: Oliver’s lips were soft but firm lips, the kiss hesitant at first, but then growing with insistency.

Elio had kissed a few boys in Italy, but those uninspired, flaccid kisses were nothing compared to this. A spark of desire he had never felt before lit in his belly. Oliver leaned in, wrapping his hand around the back of Elio’s neck, pulling him in closer. Elio wondered if they could perhaps kiss forever, but a few short moments later, Oliver pulled away. His lips glistened with spit; his eyes shined excitedly.

“Was that okay?” Oliver asked, his eyebrows knitted with concern.

Elio nodded quickly, wanting Oliver to know that it was more than _okay._ In a sudden burst of bravery, Elio himself pushed off the comforter and onto Oliver’s lap, his legs straddling Oliver’s hips. Oliver’s breath hitched and his eyes widened, but he recovered from his surprise quickly. He took Elio’s face gently in his hand, his large palms covering both his cheeks, and pulled him into another kiss, this one more intense than the last. Oliver’s tongue slipped past Elio’s lips, into his warm, eager mouth, and Elio responded with a soft moan.

Oliver had the sudden revelation that _this_ is what he had been missing. He remembered his feigned interest when Cara kissed him, and he understood clearly now how she knew it wasn’t real. _You can’t fake this,_ he thought. Oliver felt the authenticity of Elio’s feelings for him bulging from his jeans. Oliver wanted to thrust up, to feel Elio’s length rub against his own, but uncertainty stopped him from making the move. He wasn’t sure if either of them were ready for that.

He pulled his mouth off of Elio, out of breath. “We… we should stop, Elio…”

Elio looked wounded for a moment, but then nodded with understanding. He rolled off of Oliver onto the bed next to him, discretely squeezing his erection.

Elio glanced up at Oliver. “Are you upset?”

Oliver’s wiped his mouth, taking a moment to let his heartbeat slow before looking down at Elio. He looked adorable. No, more than that. He face was flushed and his curls were a mess. He was _beautiful_.

Oliver shook his head. “Why would I be upset, Elio? That was what I wanted,” he answered softly. He scooted down on his bed to look into Elio’s eyes. “I just don’t want to take things too quickly. That was… that was a lot.”

“Was that your first time kissing a boy?” Elio asked gently. He suspected it was.

Oliver’s face fell. “Was it that obvious?”

Elio put his hand Oliver’s side to reassure him. “No, no. You just only talked about girls, so I thought…”

“You were right,” Oliver interrupted him. “I guess I was waiting for the right boy to kiss.”

*****

The boys lay on the bed for another hour, holding hands and tangling their legs together, talking about their lives. Oliver asked Elio more questions about Italy (“You would love it, Oliver. Maybe someday I can show you”), and Elio asked Oliver about his family (“My dad is perpetually cranky, and my mom works hard to make our lives seem perfect. Believe me, they’re not”). Before they knew it, it was almost dinner and time for Oliver to leave. He gathered up his things and Elio walked him downstairs. Oliver said goodbye to Mrs. Perlman as he passed by the library, and she answered back, inviting him to return for another visit soon. They paused at the front door and Oliver started to pull on his letterman jacket to get ready to leave, but then stopped.

“I… I gave this to you last night because I really wanted you to have it. I _still_ want you to have it. Will you take it, Elio?” Oliver paused, bracing himself for Elio’s rejection.

Elio looked at the jacket then back up at Oliver. He hesitated not because he didn’t want the jacket, but because he worried about the recursions of him wearing it to school.

“Of course I want it, Oliver. I just… I don’t want this to cause problems for you. Maybe I should just wear it when we’re alone?”

Oliver’s heart sank, thinking that Elio was rejecting him in some way. But then Elio tugged on the jacket and his face broke in a happy grin. Oliver pushed that thought away for the moment.

“Thank you, Oliver. It smells like you.”

Oliver stepped closer to Elio, tucking a stray curl behind his ear. “Yeah? What do I smell like?”

Elio sniffed the collar, the now-familiar scent of Oliver filling his nostrils. “Just… you. I like it. A lot.”

Oliver bent down to give Elio one last quick, gentle kiss. He pulled away and looked into Elio’s earnest green eyes. “I like you, Elio. _A lot_. Save me a seat in English?”

Elio wrapped his arms around Oliver’s trim waist. “I will if you promise to keep me company in the practice room during lunch.”

“It’s a deal.” Oliver pulled away, hitching his backpack over his shoulder. “See you tomorrow, Elio.”

Elio opened the door and watched as Oliver made his way down his front walkway. Just as he got to his car, Oliver turned to give Elio one last wave, a huge smile on his face.

“See you tomorrow, Oliver,” Elio answered back softly, his heart filled with happiness.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like what you have read, or have any thoughts on this fic at all, please leave a comment!


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